


Somewhere Else Now

by Relvetica



Series: An Old Handful of Small Xenosaga Fics I am Rescuing from LJ [4]
Category: Xenosaga
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 08:54:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3686073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Relvetica/pseuds/Relvetica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seemed like a very long time before Nigredo opened his eyes. It didn't feel like he'd been sleeping. But it wasn't raining anymore, and his exhaustion-dimmed vision made out a ceiling above him instead of heavy clouds reflecting city lights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere Else Now

It seemed like a very long time before Nigredo opened his eyes. It didn't feel like he'd been sleeping. But it wasn't raining anymore, and his exhaustion-dimmed vision made out a ceiling above him instead of heavy clouds reflecting city lights. He was somewhere else now.

He exhaled and closed his eyes again; the lids were too heavy. He opened himself instead, passive instead of active, and there was nothing there. He felt around himself a little, like stretching out his fingers for something that might be beyond his reach

(??[hello]??)

but there was only a silence that didn't echo. They were gone. They were all gone. They were both gone. It hadn't been a dream.

It was actually a little difficult to make out what 'it' was, when the day had started and where it had ended. It all felt very distant and surreal now. Had he really been at that briefing with Yuriev? Had it really ended that way? Had he really stolen on board a shuttle he didn't technically have clearance to be on, unquestioned by everyone? That didn't make sense. None of that made sense. Why would Yuriev… why would he have…

Nigredo tried to lift his right arm and found it immobile. He tried his left; that one was free. He shakily felt for his chest and found heavy heated padding, the kind used to secure bone-knitters, fixed to his skin under an unfamiliar garment. The weight of his hand hurt, but he didn't have the strength to move it again.

_Any units that return from Miltia have to be disposed of immediately. I know I can trust you with this. You know as well anyone how dangerous--_

I must be back at the institute, he thought. A job well done, if not exactly executed according to plan. He'd told Rubedo to leave him behind, but Rubedo was too stupid and brave, and someone else must have finished it. Someone else must have retrieved him. He let these realizations float at the surface of his thoughts, unwilling to let them sink in, but the silence in his head spoke for itself.

How could it be possible that he was too tired to cry? He was under sedation, he supposed. Not particularly heavy sedation. He forced his eyes open again and studied the ceiling -- it looked too high for the Institute's ICU -- and turned his head to see his chart lit up on a display projected beside him. He squinted hard to try to make it out. Despite his blurry vision, he was able to read the top of it, the part the techs could glance at from a distance:

**CONDITION BLUE  
** CIVILIAN, MALE, AGE 12, MILTIA  
BLOOD GROUP A+  
PIERCED LEFT LUNG, TRAUMA TO STERNUM, SEVERE BLOOD LOSS  
BLOOD TRANSFUSION COMPLETE  
INTERNAL ORGAN RECONSTRUCTION COMPLETE  
SKELETAL RECONSTRUCTION UNDERWAY 

After that the text was too small. He stared at the part he could see for a long time. Words, words, words. They slid off his mind without taking hold. He looked down at his arm and saw that it wasn't restrained, only taped in place so he couldn't disturb the IV needles in his elbow and the nano-transport clipped into his skin between his wrist bones. That sight made him feel abruptly nauseated, and he turned his head away entirely to see Rubedo curled up in a folding chair on the other side of the bed, fast asleep. 

He stared at this for a long time, too. 

He couldn't feel him at all. It was as though it was just a picture of him propped into place, and Nigredo was gripped with a terrible sense of unreality. Even when his brothers slept he could feel them, the loose rhythm of mental activity of REM sleep periods and the lapses between them. Rubedo was wearing civilian clothing -- tee shirt and loose pants, with a pair of sandals tucked under the chair -- and for a moment Nigredo wondered if it was him at all. 

He tried to speak, but his throat failed him. He swallowed and tried again, managing a harsh whisper. "Rubedo?" 

Rubedo's blue eyes snapped open instantly and fixed on him as though he'd been awake the entire time, waiting for his cue. They stared at each other in silence. Nigredo had a thousand questions he wanted to thrust at him, but his mind was deaf and he didn't think he could force any more words out through his mouth. Rubedo's face underwent a strange shift in expression, from blank shock to something that might have been relief, and then to something sudden and consuming that Nigredo didn't understand at all. Rubedo fell out of the chair onto his knees and pressed his forehead against Nigredo's thigh, and he started to cry. It built into something worse, a horrible wail that was already summoning thudding footsteps from somewhere else in the room, and for the first and last time in Nigredo's life he was glad he couldn't hear what Rubedo was thinking. 


End file.
